


What Now?

by teal_slippers1990



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Cheating, Guilt, M/M, Regret, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-03-20 04:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teal_slippers1990/pseuds/teal_slippers1990
Summary: This wasn't supposed to happen. He meant to say "Stop."





	1. Chapter 1

_What exactly is the protocol for this?_

Spencer Reid sighed and stared into his glass. He smiled slightly at the woman sitting across the table from him and tried to give her a fair portion of his attention. Getting a full dose of Spencer’s rather substantial focus could be overwhelming for anyone and this was only the second date.

Morgan had been trying so hard to help him with this… A last gift to the younger profiler before Morgan left the BAU permanently. Savannah deserved that much. Especially now. With the baby.

Spencer gritted his teeth and fingers against another sigh. His date would start to notice them soon, if she hadn’t already.

They hadn’t known about the baby. Before. Before he’d messed up. Before Morgan had messed up.

It was just supposed to be one more celebratory drink.

**Last Friday**

Morgan stumbled up the stairs to Spencer’s apartment, scant inches between his chest and Spencer’s back. It had finally happened.

So much time had passed since Maeve… Since then. And Morgan was leaving to be with Savannah and keep her safe, the way he’d always wanted to keep his family safe. That meant this was his last chance to teach his awkward young friend how to get a date without needing a brain scan. It worked! Tonight Spencer earned himself a date with a lovely young postdoc from a nearby university and he was over the moon, laughing and blushing and smiling his gratitude at Morgan over one last drink as the bar lights kicked on. The rest of the team headed home shortly before, Garcia’s over-sized bracelets clacking as she waved goodnight and tottered out the door to her waiting ride.

“Come on, Pretty Boy, I’ll walk you home and grab a ride from there. One more drink to celebrate. Who knows when we’ll get another night like this?” Morgan clapped him on the shoulder.

Spencer happily agreed, while thinking to himself how much he’d regret it tomorrow, well, later that afternoon. 2am and how many drinks? But it was worth it. With Hotch gone and Morgan married and Spencer dating and the rest of team with kids and settling down… This could be the last time.

Then they were in his living room. Then they were sitting on his rug chatting. Then Morgan was on top of him, kissing him softly and Spencer was starting to get confused.

Clothes were gone and the kisses weren’t so soft anymore. The stack of books on his coffee table fell off and a chair hit the ground.

His legs were over Morgan’s shoulders and… Wow, no one had ever done that before, but Spencer’s body was showing some definite interest. Morgan’s lips wrapped around his cock and Spencer had a little more experience in this area. He’d figured out he was bi years ago, but honestly never got that vibe from Morgan. This, however, was clearly not his first rodeo.

Spencer moaned softly and tightened his legs around Morgan’s neck. He should be stopping this. He should be the voice of reason. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen.

“Morgan, Morgan…” He’d meant to say stop. Morgan would have stopped, Spencer had no doubt of that. But instead when he pushed Morgan back, his lips somehow found their way to Morgan’s shoulders, his chest, his abs, his thighs, his cock.

Damp fingers were pushing at him. Slowly stretching with God-knows what lubricant, something slick and warm. Spencer moaned again, trying to hold back as if silence would hide them in his empty home.

Morgan stroked him all over as his fingers worked steadily; ran a warm hand through his hair, down his side, over his ass. Spencer didn’t know if he meant to comfort or to praise and he didn’t care. Didn’t want to know really.

He glanced up to catch Morgan’s eyes and could read the guilt as clear as day. They needed to stop. Before it got worse.

Then he was straddling Morgan’s hips and it got worse. And so much better. Then he was on his back again, legs back over Morgan’s shoulders and sliding back across his rug. His head clipped the leg of the coffee table and Morgan froze.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!” Morgan peppered kisses over his face and touched his temple gently.

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Keep going.”

Spencer almost flinched; he was going to say stop. The word in his head was stop, but it refused to leave his mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Tell me when to stop.” Morgan whispered against his lips.

_He’s practically begging me to stop this._

“It’s fine, Derek. Pull my hair. Make it hurt.”

Right. Because that would make this better. A little pain for the mountain of shit they were building tonight. But of course Morgan acquiesced, buried his face in Spencer’s neck and pulled and fucked him harder. Spencer could feel the friction against his spine and knew the rug burn would be awful when this was over.

_Good. I deserve it._

Spencer didn’t know how long they tumbled across his floor, but it ended with Morgan’s fingers in his ass as the older man jerked off against his spine.

The sentiment made sense. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as it could be if Morgan didn’t leave his mark on the inside. In a weird way Spencer appreciated it.

Except then they were panting on the floor and Spencer didn’t know what to do. Morgan shot up and frantically grabbed his clothes, yanking them gracelessly over muscled limbs.

Spencer watched and shook. Maybe cold, maybe nerves. Hard to tell, really.

He stood up and made for his bedroom. Watching Morgan storm out would just twist the knife. Spencer wanted to vomit. It wasn’t the alcohol.

But Morgan called out to him as he headed for the safe-haven of his bed.

“Hey, where are you going? Do you…Shouldn’t we… talk?” Morgan’s tone was reluctance blended with desperation. Clearly as adrift in guilt as Spencer.

Spencer shuddered and grabbed a long t-shirt from his bedroom floor, dragging it on before curling in on himself on his couch. Morgan dropped down beside him, head falling into his hands.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

_Into what? You aren’t unhappy. You’re not fighting with Savannah. No failed relationship. I don’t understand._

“What was this?” Spencer murmured. Staring at his stocking feet he was struck with the rather amusing thought that he’d never had sex with his socks on before. First time for everything.

“I don’t know. Lack of self-control. Fuck, I don’t know…”

_Self-control? Were we holding back from something all this time?_

Spencer thought back across the years of what he now knows, ironically due to Morgan’s tutelage, was a range of light-hearted to heavy flirting and accepted that perhaps they had indeed been walking a thin line for quite a while.

“So what are you going to do?” Spencer asked softly, gnawing at his lower lip. He can already feel his lower back beginning to burn. A small part of him hoped it would bleed. Hoped it would scar. He wasn’t sure if wanted the punishment or the memory.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can keep from telling her. I have to… I don’t know what to do. I’ll keep you out of it. This was my fault.”

Somehow Morgan’s voice carried as much blame as guilt despite his words and Spencer knew deep down he didn’t see it that way.

“It wasn’t just you. It was me too. I didn’t stop you.”

Morgan just sighed and sank back into the couch. They were both silent for a while. Spencer wasn’t sure when his feet wound up in Morgan’s lap, or Morgan’s hands on his thighs, but Morgan was whispering into his skin…

“I want you again.”

Then Spencer was on his knees with his t-shirt pushed up and his face buried in the pillows on the back of the couch. Morgan’s cock was buried in his ass and Spencer couldn’t understand how he was quite intoxicated but had such a short refractory period.

A hand wrapped around his mouth, pulling his head back and arching his spine. Morgan spilled across his back and gently wiped it away.

Now Spencer knew it was shock causing his shaking. What if Morgan told Garcia? They’re best friends and Garcia can’t lie. What about Spencer’s job? His job was his life and having the good opinion of his co-workers meant the world to him…

Morgan’s hands held his shoulders and words tried to comfort him and reassure him and all Spencer could do was ask him again and again to please leave please leave please leave.

So Morgan left. And Spencer crawled into his bed and shook until sleep claimed him.

**Saturday night**

Morgan had barely made eye contact at the office the whole week, but Spencer could understand that. He refrained from texting, but only just. The rug burn on his back burned and ached every time his shirt touched it or his skin pulled. He deserved it.

Savannah was pregnant. And Spencer deserved to suffer for it. So did Morgan. Apparently, they both were. Spencer hoped Morgan understood the need to keep this secret from a psychological perspective. Telling Savannah would not help her. It would only assuage Morgan’s guilt. She didn’t have doubts or insecurities in their relationship. He would not be putting any fears to rest. Confessing would only cause more pain all the way around.

And this would never happen again. So such a thing was needlessly cruel.

Spencer’s first date wound up a delightful success and even put Morgan out of his mind for a time. But then he’d missed the Friday social and Spencer’s subconscious fears rose.

He texted Morgan.

“ _No drinks tonight?”_

_“No, stayed home.”_

That gave him nothing. He kept his face carefully enthusiastic for his company. He debated, he hesitated, he drank, he caved.

“ _Will we be okay?”_

_“We’re fine. Just stayed home.”_

That smacked of a lie in the biggest way possible.

Which left Spencer at his first official second date, not closet calls from unknown pay phones, sighing and hiding worry from the woman who could become his first partner since Maeve. Not a good way to begin a relationship.

So he smiled at the appropriate times and could tell from the crinkling at his own eyes the smiles were real. This could be someone he came to care for. But until then…

_What’s the protocol? What’s the protocol when you destroy a friendship over…nothing?_ _What now?_


	2. And if our eyes should meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer followed all the rules. But their eyes kept locking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in a dark place and this is my outlet. Don't come here for a happy ending. Read one of my other stories.

Spencer felt eyes raking over the side of his face. He knew if he turned right then, his eyes would lock with Morgan's for just a moment before they both turned away.

They hadn't spoken of that night. Ever. They barely spoke at all. The one day Spencer breached that barrier to hand Morgan a case file, he'd flinched like it was on fire. The reaction twisted like a knife in Spencer's guts.

That was all they had these days. That awful night months ago… And it had been months. Morgan was officially no longer a member of BAU team. Spencer only saw him if he and Savannah joined the group. And that happened less and less frequently as Savannah's due date drew near. Garcia would plop down at the table with a huff and make his excuses, citing "responsibilities." Everyone smiled and praised him for the doting father he would be, while inside Spencer cringed just a bit every time.

But it was getting so much better. At night, Spencer thought of Lydia as he fell asleep instead of Morgan. So far his first real girlfriend was turning out to be everything he could hope for… Warm and gentle and lively and quick. And brilliant at chess. So at night, he thought of her hands on his skin. Her warmth next to him. Her soft body and soft kisses and gentle words. Nothing like Morgan, hard and hot and unforgiving. He thought of Lydia, except for the times when his mind was dark and his memory long and he dredged up heavy breathing and hard hands and a miasma of guilt like tar.

Then this would happen. A night where Savannah stayed home and Lydia was tied up in her research. Morgan would be on one side of the table and Spencer the other. They'd both stare intently at the person talking. Until he glanced at Morgan. Away. Morgan at him. Away. Back. Away. Their eyes would lock. And instead of the rolling guilt, Spencer would have to smile just a little. Morgan would smile back, his eyes warm.

Tonight Spencer made every effort to stay distant. Played it safe. Let Morgan sit first and put two seats between them. But then a few new agents joined them and Morgan stood to very deliberately move to the chair beside Spencer. He sprawled in his seat, scant inches between them. People came and went from the table and Spencer managed to put people in the middle again. Talk of work, talk of futures, he tried to keep up but it was all lost on him. Somehow now Morgan was directly across from him and their eyes kept meeting and that warm smile…

Someone was making plans to move the group to house for the night, grab some food, make an evening of it. Morgan kept looking at him.

"We're headed that way in a minute. You coming?"

Spencer took a slow breath through his nose and out. He looked at his soda water and lime. Never trusted himself to drink with the group anymore.

"Thinking about it." He was thinking he'd wait until everyone went out to their cars then he'd grab an uber home. "Bathroom."

He felt Morgan's eyes on his back as he walked. More alarming was walking out to find him waiting.

"We're carpooling. Want a ride?"

_Why aren't you playing by the fucking rules?!? I'm trying!_

Spencer bit his lip."Yeah. Yeah, okay."

It was a bit of a walk to the car. Garcia tottered along, chatting with Kevin, sharing their gaming stories. Spencer once more considered trying a little virtual reality himself, but it really wasn't his thing. Not being able to really see the person… No. Not his thing. He kept careful spacing as they walked, rotating around they lovebirds as needed to keep them between him and Morgan.

They approached the car and Spencer shuddered on the inside. Morgan would sit beside him in the back seat. A part of him was starting to get a little angry as he watched Morgan stroll around to the other door.

Was he the only one stressed about this?! Did Morgan not feel any tension between them at all!?

Two could play this stupid fucking game. He had Lydia. He thought with time he could grow to love her very easily. Why should Morgan be the one who got to brush this off and embrace his happy family with Savannah?!

Spencer took a deep breath and focused on relaxing his posture. Letting his shoulders unlock for the first time all night. His hands fall limp and his knees splay open a bit. Morgan's eyes were on the side of his face again.

The hours that followed were the same. Eyes meeting. Away. Back. Away. Back. Eventually, Spencer couldn't take it. He made his excuses. Called an uber, trudged up his stairs, called Lydia, pulled on a ratty shirt and flannel plaid pants.

_Thunk thunk thunk_

Three solid raps at the door. Spencer's breath caught. He moved to the door knowing what he would see and he was right.

Morgan's hands gripped either side of the door frame tightly. His jaw was tight and his eyes heated, but somehow calm. That look made Spencer feel nearly naked and guilty and wanted. He was in control here. He could shut the door. But…

If he wanted to psychoanalyze the situation, he'd say Morgan's posture was intentionally domineering, literally trapping Spencer in his own home. But…

Spencer took a step back, but didn't shut the door. Morgan stepped forward. Back. Forward. Again. Morgan shut the door behind him and Spencer heard the _snick_ of his deadbolt turning.

His cheeks flushed and his hands shook. Another step back and his leg hit the coffee table. Morgan's hand reached out and snagged his shirt, pulling him forward.

"Tell me no."

Spencer's lips parted, but nothing came out. He stared into rich chocolate eyes helplessly. Tried to cling to Lydia and Savannah in his mind.

"I can't." He shook like his body wanted to come apart at its joints.

Morgan moved closer and Spencer flinched slightly, too much too fast after last time. But the older man just wrapped him in warm arms and held tight.

"You can. If you mean it, tell me no," Morgan whispered into his ear.

It was the kiss of death for Spencer. He clutched at Morgan's back, strong and hard. Remembered what that back looked like walking away and he couldn't see that again tonight.

"Stay." Equally soft against Morgan's neck.

Spencer expected the hard kiss that bruised his lips, but the gratitude on Morgan's face surprised and confused him.

The next kiss was all-consuming, thawing the small frozen core at his center that searing shame hadn't been able to touch since the last kiss. No larger than a quarter, but all the heavier for its compressed density. But the heat of Morgan's skin as Spencer's hands slid under his shirt burned it all away.

Spencer tried to pull Morgan towards his couch, but the larger man shook his head.

"Nuh-uh, pretty boy, I want you in your bed."

Every muscle in Spencer's body seized and melted simultaneously.

_God, yes. God, no. Please._

Numb feet stumbled to his room with Morgan pulling his hand gently. Still gently. Not like last time.

_I don't understand_ …

He had a rather fucked up, unwelcome thought that he was glad he'd washed his sheets since Lydia's last night over.

_I was never going to be this guy. Morgan was never going to be this guy. Was it me? Did I break the rules?! I tried so hard…_

His long legs slid across clean, crisp sheets and Morgan crawled over him, gripping the waist of his slacks and slipping them off, taking briefs with them. His eyes never left Spencer's. Spencer dragged his shirt over his head and was graced with the sight of a naked Morgan. Last time, last time had been quick and dirty and underhanded and… Nausea rose and Spencer pushed the thoughts from his mind.

_This is the last time._

He could feel the lie in his brain matter. If Morgan came to his door again…

Lips on his, hands in his. Teeth clacking, legs tangled. Moans, gasps, whispers. Shouts, cries, sobs. The comforter hit the floor, the pillows followed. Morgan's forehead cracked against the back of Spencer's skull. Someone's foot got trapped in the sheets and two full grown men hit the floor, laughing hysterically. And then it was real. The hysterics, the tears. Morgan held him tight and shook just as hard.

He didn't leave that night and Spencer didn't ask him to. But in the cold light of morning over burned coffee they sat together, and alone. Caught in their own separate hells. Morgan would leave. Spencer would let him.

But the wolf in sheep's clothing would come to the door again and the spider would let the fly in.


End file.
